Love: a Process
by Lunar Maelstrom
Summary: "The first time Tsumugu speaks to Midori, he is cowering beneath a gazebo and clutching his camera protectively against his chest as he listens to the angry drumming of rain." Love is sometimes a process, and at the end of it all is a new beginning.


**Summary:** "The first time Tsumugu speaks to Midori, he is cowering beneath a gazebo and clutching his camera protectively against his chest as he listens to the angry drumming of rain." Love is sometimes a process, and at the end of it all is a new beginning.

**A/N:** I hope this doesn't drag on and isn't too dull. ^^' This was _meant_ to be written for Valentine's Day, but I sorta missed the deadline... And this was also meant as a present for my fabulous beta **En ar Ciel** for her half-birthday. I missed that, too, so I guess this is just a random gift, then. Unbeta'ed because making her beta her own present is like asking someone to pay for their own gift. I hope y'all enjoy.

**Other:** I've checked, and since this is the first fanfic about this couple on ff, I'm going to call them Tsumidori until proven otherwise. :)

**Rating: **K+

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. I'm just renting out a couple of characters and blowing the dust of them.

* * *

><p><strong>Love: a Process<br>**.

The first time Tsumugu Hinamori sees Midori Suzuki, he is going for his usual walk in the park. He comes here every few days just to breathe the air and snap a few photos and people-watch. When he catches sight of her sitting on a bench underneath a tree, her brown hair tied in a loose ponytail and her skin dappled in sunlight—he is too far away to see her eyes—he thinks that she is exceptionally pretty.

He snaps a photo of the girl under the tree before his attention is caught by a Eurasian Tree Sparrow casually hopping along the small fountain near him.

It is as he is creeping closer to the fountain, camera at the ready, smiling brightly and looking ridiculous overall that Midori sees him. She laughs a little, and finds him utterly endearing when his face falls after the sparrow flies away.

Every Saturday for the next two and a half months, the two of them glimpse each other at the park. She finds herself smiling when he strikes up conversations with strangers and treats them like old friends; he can't help but feel lighter when she laughs as she plays with the kids who have quickly fallen in love with her.

.

The first time Tsumugu speaks to Midori, he is cowering beneath a gazebo and clutching his camera protectively against his chest as he listens to the angry drumming of rain. His jacket is damp and he shivers slightly from the cold wind. His camera is not waterproof.

A hesitant voice startles him from his abject misery. "Do you… need an umbrella?"

He looks up.

Her eyes are warm and brown behind half-moon glasses; her smile is sweet. Her umbrella alternates between two shades of blue and he stares at it with hope in his eyes.

"…Maybe," he says, grinning sheepishly at her. She laughs lightly.

"I'll take that as a yes, then," she teases.

"I don't want to cause you any trouble…"

She raises an eyebrow. "You'll cause me some trouble of mind if you sit here for the next hour waiting for the rain to stop and then die of hypothermia."

He mulls that over for a moment and then smiles brightly at her. "In that case," he says gratefully, "yes, please."

"I'm Midori Suzuki," she introduces herself as he steps beneath the umbrella, making sure to offer his camera maximum protection at all times.

"Tsumugu Hinamori," he responds in kind. He is half a head taller than she is, and there is an awkward moment where they look at each other and realise exactly how close in proximity they are. They blush and avoid each other's eyes.

"Well then, Hinamori-kun, I am now your personal chauffeur. Where are we headed?" She sneaks a glance at him from the corner of her eye. His eyes are golden and full of kindness—sometimes when he smiles widely, they almost disappear as though there is not enough room on his face to display all of his joy. His hair is damp and bedraggled, and he has some stubble on his chin that she finds surprisingly attractive. She flushes even darker at herself and keeps her eyes resolutely forward.

He grins and directs her. When they arrive at the door to his apartment, he bravely reaches out to squeeze her free hand and murmur a quiet "Thank you".

.

They make it a point to speak to one another when they see each other on Saturdays. Mostly it is about inconsequential things, like jokes about the weather. There is a feeling of companionship and a shy happiness every time they talk, and both of them catch themselves humming more often or sighing happily at times.

.

The fourth time they speak, he asks her whether she would like to have coffee with him.

They will argue over whether or not this could be counted as a date. Midori will maintain that it was not a date because Tsumugu has a habit of asking almost-strangers to coffee chats, and unless he had been cheating on her with that lovely sixty-year-old woman every Tuesday…

Tsumugu will consider it a date because Midori blushed to the tips of her ears when he asked, and he hadn't been able to stop smiling for three days after—even if he'd somehow managed to make a fool of himself by spilling his coffee on the barista. It was alright, though, because in her surprise Midori threw her drink into the face of another customer and they'd both left with tears of laughter running down their tomato-red faces.

Her laugh is the most beautiful thing he's ever heard, and he wishes he'd managed to take a picture of it so that he could keep it next to his heart forever.

.

Their second First Date will become something that they do not talk about. Its very existence will become something that they deny.

Tsumugu asks her out properly this time. He bounces nervously on his heels as he clarifies that, yes; this is a date because I really like you and if you say no I may do something drastic like throw my camera into that fountain. The look of pure happiness on his face when she says yes is a sight that Midori will forever keep in her heart.

It's after that that it all goes downhill. Tsumugu panics and realises that he has no clue what they are going to actually _do_. In the end, he decides to stick to the safe route: dinner and a movie.

This turns out to be a mistake, and it leads to one of the most awkward nights in their lives. At dinner, the conversation stalls.

"So."

"So…"

"It's kinda cold today."

"Yeah. Yeah, it is."

The movie is just as awkward, if not worse. It has never really occurred to either of them before just how impersonal a movie theatre is. When the movie begins to play, they are both helpless to do anything but watch and glance at each other out of the corners of their eyes. Both of them wonder what the etiquette is in this situation, too nervous to actually do anything but wait for the movie to end. _Are we supposed to hold hands? It's too early in the relationship for that, isn't it? Should I comment on the ridiculousness of this movie? No, wait, that might be offensive or distracting or…_

Afterwards, he walks her to her apartment block. They stand in silence for several dragging moments and clumsily offer each other goodbyes.

Tsumugu does not kiss her goodnight. When she retreats inside the complex, he walks a little distance away before slapping his head with his palm repeatedly and berates himself for being "such an idiot, geez". One flight of stairs up, Midori lets her head thump against the wall and sighs, not even able to summon the will to be embarrassed when a neighbour passes her and gives her a strange look.

.

Tsumugu is surprised when Midori marches up to him the following week with a determined glint in her eye. "Let's go for a walk," she says.

His week has been miserable and he would not have blamed Midori if she never wished to speak to him again after their incredibly unsatisfying date. He gapes for a moment, blinks, and quickly snaps his jaw shut.

"Okay," is all he can think to say.

.

Midori asks him on their third First Date—the one Midori swears is their 'real' first date—and together they decide to go bowling.

The bowling alley smells faintly of polish and something sharp, and they laugh as they rent bowling shoes and pay for a game. The atmosphere is much lighter this time and they can enjoy an easy intimacy with each other.

Midori takes one glance at the bowling balls and cracks a crude joke before she remembers herself. Tsumugu snorts in surprise and shoots her a scandalised look. It would be more effective if he could contain the grin that was threatening to break out across his face.

It turns out that Midori is a natural at bowling, whereas Tsumugu may be classified as bowling's most hated enemy. His face is crestfallen after another ball veers off into the gutter. She stifles a laugh and he pouts at her.

"Tips?" he pleads. And, well, how can she say no?

Under her gentle guidance, Tsumugu improves rapidly. In fact, at one point he manages a strike. He whoops and spins and she is so proud and jubilant that she throws her arms around his neck, almost knocking the both of them over. He feels solid and warm and she is energetic and so alive.

Neither of them is quite sure who makes the first move, but their lips brush; warm and soft and a little dry. No sparks fizzle and no explosives are set off. Instead there is glee, and novelty, and adrenalin, excitement, disbelief—two hearts beating rabbit-quick, trembling as they nestle together.

There is safety and contentment.

.

It is a little over a fortnight later. They are walking down a street, hand in hand, when Tsumugu suddenly stops and turns to her. She blinks as she is anchored to the spot by him and her brows furrow in confusion when he takes both her hands in his. He looks at her softly, although there is a flutter of nerves in his eyes.

"Midori Suzuki," he says solemnly, and she panics and thinks that he might be breaking up with her or maybe he found out he has cancer or—"will you be my girlfriend?"

She takes a minute to stare before whacking him lightly on the arm and laughing in relief. Tsumugu is confused and rather hurt and dejected, so she slides her hands up to cradle his jaw and brings him forward for a kiss.

"Of course, silly," she smiles.

They last a month before the relationship hits its first snag.

.

Midori has always wanted to be a journalist. She loves the stories, and the world of new experiences and perspectives that magazines and newspapers alike gift people with. A journalist, she believes, has the duty to share knowledge so that everyone, including themselves, can grow. It is an exchange that she longed to be a part of when she was younger.

She is hanging onto this dream by the skin of her teeth. Journalism is not a degree that the Japanese populace has much tolerance for. There are plenty of companies that distrust the use of a degree at all. She is in the third month of a six-month contract with a newspaper company when she starts to date Tsumugu.

Having a boyfriend is incredibly distracting and time-consuming. At first it is fine. She juggles her work and her personal commitments well, and is actually more enthusiastic and optimistic than she has been in a while.

Then she starts to slip.

When she isn't spending a day with him and broadening their horizons with fun activities (like ice-skating, which they try in the third week of their relationship), she is spending an odd afternoon in one of their apartments watching rented videos. She may be spending an hour on the phone with him instead of researching information for her latest editorial, or she may become distracted by something she thinks Tsumugu might like, or won't like. Sometimes she realises she has zoned out for five minutes simply remembering an earlier conversation they had or something they did.

She is starting to fall behind; her writing and research has gotten just a little bit sloppy. She has two months left on her contract when she fails to meet a deadline and her boss is not happy. She needs this contract to go well—she needs to impress them so that the company will offer a more long-term contract after it's over.

She doesn't quite know what she will do if she fails.

.

Tsumugu's family is well-off. He does not have to worry about money even if he decides not to work anymore. He is a waiter, because he does not know what he wants to do with his life and he enjoys seeing people and talking to them. He works in a rather posh restaurant, and the customers adore him because he can be charming and charismatic when he wants to be.

For now he is completely satisfied with his life and has no ambition to make something bigger of himself.

Midori sometimes catches herself feeling incredibly envious of his freedom and lackadaisical nature. It makes her feel guilty and horrible and sometimes she ignores his calls because he does not deserve a girlfriend who can begrudge him his happiness, even if only for a brief moment.

A lot of the time, though, she ignores his calls because she has to work and she is really too tired to handle any conversations. She feels horrible and guilty about this too, and _damn it_ who knew that having a boyfriend could make a person feel simultaneously wonderful and miserable?

She is partway through her next article when the doorbell buzzes. She is immediately set on edge. Her bad mood only worsens when she hears Tsumugu's voice; all the guilt that has been plaguing her in the back of her mind is brought to the forefront again.

When he knocks on the door she flings it open with an annoyed frown. "What are you doing here?" she demands, ignoring the hopeful smile and the bulging plastic bag dangling from his uplifted arm.

The pleasant expression slides off his face immediately and is replaced by a frown. She turns the spark of guilt she feels into fuel for her irritation because it is an easier emotion for her to handle.

"You weren't answering my calls, so I came to check that you were alright," he mutters. "I brought some sashimi…"

Irritation becomes anger. Anger at herself, at her job, at her decisions, at his life… it all flares up, and she directs it at the only available target.

"My life doesn't revolve around you!" she explodes. "Does it not occur to you that I'm just not answering your calls because I'm busy? Not all of us can waste our time doing stupid things like bowling all day! Or maybe I just don't want to talk to you twenty-four hours a day. I have a life, Tsumugu, and I have a job, and other friends, and I have actual responsibilities!"

She's feeling reckless. She wants to push him and see how far he can go and to make him feel this burning anger and guilt all twisting and hot. She wants to see him snap and break; wants to see him be something less than wonderful, less than perfect, wants him to hurt. She wants him to be _furious_ and to yell at her because then he'll have sunk down to her level and then maybe she won't feel so guilty anymore.

His eyes flash hurt and anger.

She gets her wish. It only makes her feel worse.

.

She is curled up on the coach, staring at nothing at all. The distant echo of the door slamming still resonates in her mind, but she can't seem to find the strength to cry.

.

They don't speak to one another for two weeks. Neither of them know whether they are in a relationship or not and they are both afraid that if they asked, the answer would be no.

The guilt is too much for Midori. It has only worsened after their fight, to the point where she cannot concentrate or sleep. A month isn't a long time to be in a relationship, she knows, but she misses Tsumugu's smile so much that she just _aches_ sometimes. She ruined that, she thinks.

She gathers her determination and goes to his apartment.

.

"You look awful," is the first thing that comes out of her mouth when the door swings open. He does. He's ragged and pale and unkempt.

"…So do you," he replies, rubbing his eyes and letting her in.

She breathes; gets to the point. "I'm sorry," she says with an intensity and sincerity that almost scares her.

It is like the breaking of a dam. Suddenly, she begins to sob.

"I'm sorry, please don't hate me, I'm so sorry, _god, I'msorryI'msorrysorrysorrysorry_—"

She is enveloped by warm arms.

.

Once she is calmer they apologise again, and then they talk. They talk for hours—about their argument, and then about everything and anything that crosses their minds. She tells him about the guilt. She was stressed and irrational and she had let it fester.

They promise each other that they will talk about anything that troubles them, no matter how petty or inconsequential it seems.

In turn, he tells her about his parents. His father is a lawyer, and his parents fully expect him to follow in his footsteps. He finished his undergraduate law degree to please them, but…

Well, he _hates_ law.

She asks why he doesn't tell them that, and he grins like he thinks she's being funny.

They cuddle until they fall asleep. Their problems aren't gone, but some of them are fading. Slowly, things get better again.

.

Midori gestures animatedly with her hand as she narrates her story. Her eyes are bright and untroubled, and all the money in the world can't get him to take his eyes off her in this moment

"—and then the little boy just turns around and _looks_ at him, right, and I swear he went _so _red…"

Tsumugu watches her fondly and slides his hand over hers and thinks _so_ _this is love._

.

"They offered me another contract!"

"_Mi-chan! That's wonderful! You deserve it._"

"Thank you, Tsumugu. For… everything."

"_Celebratory dinner tonight? You have to meet this friend of mine. He's visiting for a few days._"

"I'm looking forward to it."

"_Bye Mi-chan!_"

"See you later, sweetie."

.

His lips are hot on her collarbone and his body is sturdy above her. Stubble scratches over her neck, and she gasps. Her hands clutch at his head and she can feel his proud grin against her neck.

"We don't have to stop," she manages to get out. Tsumugu's palms freeze as they are tracing over her ribcage underneath her shirt.

He draws back. "What?" he breathes.

"We don't have to stop this time," she says again, deliberately. There are hundreds of things unsaid: _I trust you, we're ready, it'll be okay._

He understands.

.

She turns off the laptop, stretches, and turns, starting in surprise when she finds Tsumugu asleep on the coach. Sometimes she gets so caught up in her work that she forgets that Tsumugu has come over to keep her company while she does.

He is curled up, relaxed and innocently adorable. Between one breath and the next, she falls in love.

It is wonderful and terrifying, and then it just feels _right_. She lets it fill her up to the tips of her fingers and toes, feeling completely new and yet so familiar. She greets it like an old friend, feeling loose and happy. It's almost gentle, this feeling: strong and steady and slow, like the beat of a content heart. She won't tell him, not for a while. She'll keep it close to her, relish the knowledge. One day she'll let it loose upon the world, but until then it will be her own little secret.

.

"I want you to meet my parents," she says nonchalantly. He chokes on his tea.

"I'm—I mean…" he pauses. They have been together for five months now. They've met each other's friends, some relatives. But.

_But_.

This is bigger than that. Midori loves and respects her parents, he knows. If they don't approve of him, well. He never wants to jeopardise that relationship between them. Therefore he is understandably nervous at the prospect of meeting the people who brought up the amazing woman he loves.

"Okay," he says.

She threads her fingers through his. "They'll love you," she promises.

.

Midori runs a curious finger over the back of what looks like a photo album. She is kneeling in front of a bookshelf in Tsumugu's apartment, head cocked and eyes bright. Tsumugu wanders over to see what has taken her fancy.

"Oh, that," he says when he spies the album in her hands. "You know all the pictures I take on my walks and whenever something strikes my interest? Yeah, I keep them in a few photo albums I have lying around."

She looks up at him. "Can I see?"

"Of course you can. Why would you even have to ask?" he says, slightly confused.

"Some of us have manners and mind other people's privacy," she quips.

He takes a moment to pretend to be offended before giving up. He can't deny the truth in the statement, after all. Instead, he watches her as she opens the album.

There is silence as she scans the first page. She lightly turns over the page, blinks a few times, and turns to gaze at him with an expression of wonder.

"Tsumugu," she breathes, "these are beautiful."

He blushes and stammers slightly. "R—really? I just… like taking pictures of things, is all. Especially wild birds. I like birds." He's not very good at taking such heartfelt compliments.

"I know," she says softly. "But… you should do something with this. I'm sure you could get your photographs published somewhere if you tried."

He brightens up. "You think so?"

"I know so."

.

"I don't like cats."

"Really? How come? They're so cute and graceful."

"You can't trust them. They're all planning something. I mean, just _look_ at them."

"But they're so cute! They're puppy dogs without the size or the teeth or the imperative to chase down everything that runs."

"They're evil. Especially stray cats. They hunt down local wildlife, you know. Like birds and stuff. I like birds."

"I know, silly. But you can't blame the poor things if they've been abandoned."

"Evil. Eeeeevil."

"Well, I like cats."

"Just you wait: one day a cat will sink its claws into you and you'll wish you'd heeded my warning."

"Oh, I love you."

"…"

"…You—you don't have to say anything or whatever, but. But I do. Love you."

"I love you too."

"…"

"…"

"And now you're attacking me with your mouth. My, how forward!"

"Shh. I'm showing my love. Don't ruin it."

"…I still like cats."

"And otherwise, you would be perfect."

"Hey!"

.

Midori collapses against her couch. She's just finished work and she is exhausted. As a junior employee, senior members are apparently allowed to use her like a pack animal to research things and run errands for them while simultaneously having to work on her own articles.

She doesn't really like this job. It's something she doesn't admit to herself very often, but it's true. She has _always_ wanted to be a journalist. She still does. But perhaps she doesn't want to be this specific _kind_ of journalist because she doesn't really care for interviewing rude and uncooperative semi-celebrities or hiking it to the site of the nearest accident for a glimpse of the action.

Usually Tsumugu grants her several hours of peace after she gets off from work at the very least, if they see each other at all. It's why she's so surprised when he calls to inform her that he wants to come over to talk to her about something.

"My parents are coming down for a while, and they want to have lunch with me," Tsumugu explains when he arrives in her apartment. "Do you… do you want to come with me and meet them?"

She clasps her hands together in delight.

It is possible that Tsumugu is more anxious about this than he was about meeting Midori's parents.

.

"So when are you going back to law school?" asks Tsumugu's father, straight and to the point. His mother stays silent.

Tsumugu shifts uncomfortably in his seat. "We've talked about this before, father." He sees Midori frown slightly from the corner of his eye.

His father—his name is Michio, but he would probably turn to stone if anybody ever calls him that—shakes his head disapprovingly. "I've already given you time to get those silly fancies out of your head. How long will it take you to understand that you can't just throw your life away chasing some pipe dream?"

Midori lays her napkin calmly against the table. "Personally, I don't think Tsumugu should throw his life away doing something he hates just to please you," she says evenly. There is indignation throbbing through her veins but she forces herself to meet his gaze levelly.

Michio's jaw clenches. "_Personally_," he says coldly, "I don't think that you should be speaking to me on behalf of my own son. The question was not addressed to you in any case."

She flushes.

It is safe to say that neither of them make a very good impression on the other.

.

Midori is practically vibrating from barely suppressed anger by the time that lunch ends.

"I'm sorry about my father," Tsumugu says quietly.

"No," she says fiercely, "do _not_ apologise for that man. You have done nothing wrong, okay?"

He gives her a small smile. "Okay."

.

They don't feel that this is a very big step to take. After all, they spend most of their free time together anyway, they reason. And they always enjoy the chance to cuddle in bed.

The decision is made one afternoon. Tsumugu is idly browsing through television channels while she browses a book just as idly next to him.

"We should move in together," she comments, off-hand.

A grin splits Tsumugu's face. "Yeah, we should."

And that was that. They discuss the merits of moving into one of their current apartments as opposed to searching for a new one, and decide to move into Tsugumu's because it's more spacious.

There are a few heated disagreements between them as they adjust to losing any personal space that they have left, but they settle into a rhythm soon enough. Living together brings out the flaws in people in a way very few things can. Midori, for example, has a habit of piling books and papers haphazardly in any free space, and Tsumugu is prone to being thoughtless and careless at times. At one point, Tsumugu spills a cup of coffee all over Midori's work papers, and the ensuing fight lasts for a week and almost causes them to break up.

Sometimes love is easy, and sometimes love is _exhausting_. The test is to find out whether or not it is worth the effort.

(It is.)

.

"I like the name Amu," Midori says rather pensively one day.

Tsumugu pauses and thinks about it. "It's a nice name."

Midori goes back to work.

.

They're trying their hand at a fancy dinner again. There is candlelight, and sophisticated menus followed by even more sophisticated food of tiny proportions. The gentle murmur of conversation rises and falls around them, and the sounds of cutlery add a further sense of refinement to the general atmosphere.

Midori feels like they are kids playing dress-up in their parents' clothes.

"That guy looks like a hawk," whispers Tsumugu, pointing his thumb at one of the other patrons. He has never really learnt the art of subtlety.

"Don't point," she says hurriedly, biting back a laugh.

"But he does!" he protests quietly. "And that woman looks like a Great Dane."

"Tsumugu!"

He ignores her. "And then there's the Praying Mantis girl," he says, forgetting to keep his voice quite as low as it was. "The one eating celery. The most interesting people come here, don't you think?"

"This is highly inappropriate." She tries to keep a straight face.

"It's alright; I've been told I look like a balloon with a face drawn on," he says, a certain amount of inexplicable pride in his voice.

She snorts rather unattractively.

"Made you smile!" he sings.

She shakes her head at him. "Well then, what do _I_ look like?"

He stares at her, sobering somewhat. "You," he begins tenderly, "look like an angel."

.

Tsumugu watches Midori worriedly. She is pacing back and forth in their living room and hasn't spoken since she came home from work a while ago. He wants her to talk to him soon, because his shift at the restaurant starts in an hour.

"We're going to have to get new floorboards if you keep wearing a hole in them like that," he says eventually.

She stops and sighs. "I was offered a job today," she tells him abruptly. He gestures for her to continue. "It's a fairly small local company. They do stuff like _Maiden's Answers, Woman's Wonders, _and _Housewives' Knowledge_."

"Do you want to take the job?" he asks, curious.

"I—I don't know. They want me to be an editor for a magazine," she explains quickly.

"Really?" he says in surprise. "How did they find you? I don't think many journalists are randomly offered editorial positions."

"My friend recommended me, apparently," she shrugs helplessly. "But I… I've always wanted to be a journalist."

Tsumugu looks at her. "Are you happy where you are right now?" he asks gently.

She bites her lip. "I…" she trails off, frustrated. She can't seem to find the words to express how she is feeling in that moment.

He rephrases the question. "Do you think you will be happier if you take this job?"

She thinks about it. She's looked through a few of their editions, and she is entranced by the feeling of community that is contained within those glossy pages. There are discussions about everything from the inane to the absurd, kernels of knowledge freely offered by people who obviously love the magazine and their writers. This is something much gentler, more witty and informal, than her current position as a journalist. She thinks that it doesn't sound too bad.

"Maybe," she says at last, conflicted. "I just—I've _always_ wanted to be a journalist," she reiterates.

"I know, Mi-chan."

"And—and the pay isn't as good." It seems as though she's trying to convince herself more than anything else.

"The money doesn't matter," he says sternly. "How long do you have to decide?"

She runs her fingers through her ponytail. "Two weeks."

"Then take your time thinking it over," he suggests. He glances at the clock and sighs. "I have to go to work. Love you," he calls out.

"Love you too," she replies distractedly. He grins.

.

Three days later, she comes to a decision. She sends her boss her two weeks' notice and feels lighter, _freer_ than she has in a while. It is strange, but she feels like dancing in the rain or singing at the top of her lungs to a crowd of strangers. She wants to do something crazy and fun while this feeling lasts.

Tsumugu asks her if she's certain, because she does have more time to think about it. She takes his hand and tells him that dreams change sometimes.

He is proud and happy and excited for her, so full of feelings that he thinks he might be able to float up and touch the moon.

.

It takes her a while to realise that she is being flirted with by this person that she's never met before. He compliments her, brushes imaginary dust off her shoulder, pins her with smouldering eyes. It is actually quite flattering to know that she is still attractive, and she can't help but blush and preen a little at the attention. Now that she realises it, of course, the flirting is incredibly obvious to anyone with eyes.

In fact, she catches sight of Tsumugu watching them from the entrance of the café, lips twisted in amusement and eyebrows raised.

"I'm sorry," she lets him down gently, "but I have a boyfriend."

He's slightly disappointed but doesn't take this to heart. "All the best ones are taken," he remarks wistfully.

She catches up to Tsumugu, still blushing a little from the unexpected interaction. Tsumugu smirks at her quite uncharacteristically. "So," he prompts, "he's not very subtle."

She slaps him lightly on the arm. "I didn't realise, okay? And one would think you'd be jealous or something."

He shrugs, unperturbed. "You're beautiful," he says simply. "People are bound to notice. Honestly I'd be more worried if you _weren't_ being flirted with left, right and centre."

She laughs and whacks him again. "Stop it," she commands, her face reddening further.

"And the best thing is that you love _me._ I'm the one who gets to be with you," he finishes.

"I do love you," she agrees lightly. "And you do have the privilege of being in my company."

He gazes at her. "I trust you."

"I trust you, too. Always."

.

"_Michio Hinamori speaking._"

"Father? I, um, I—how're you doing?"

"_Well. What is the purpose of this call?_"

"Can't I call to say hi?"

"_I'm in the middle of a case. Unless there is a purpose to this conversation, then I am going to hang up._"

"No! I mean—yes. There's a point to this."

"_Hurry up then. I have fifty-three more case files to study and compare._"

"…I—I want to… to_beawildbirdphotographer_."

"_I'm sorry, what?_!"

"I've… I've decided to become a wild bird photographer."

"_This is a joke, right? I'll have you know that this is a huge waste of my time._"

"It's not a joke! One of Midori's co-workers referred me to a wildlife magazine, and I sent in a portfolio…"

"_Tsumugu. This is a mistake. Please reconsider your options. There is no security in… 'wild bird photography'._"

"Maybe not, but I think I would rather be happy than secure."

"_I'm not going to be able to support you forever, you realise? How will you provide for a family if…_"

"I wouldn't want to just 'provide for' my family. _I_ would love them and cherish them the way they deserve."

"…"

"My decision is final. Thank you for taking care of me until now."

"_Wait_—"

"Goodbye."

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

"…"

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Thank you for holding my hand. For being here."

"I'll always be here. You know that."

.

It has been two years since they first spoke to each other. They are taking a stroll in the very same park that they first met when Tsumugu takes her hand and drags her over to the gazebo. She laughs, confused but willing to humour him.

She swears her heart stops when he grasps her hand and drops down on one knee. It starts up again a moment later, so fast she is worried that it will actually explode. That would be rather unromantic, she reflects, as panic and hope and happiness and terror and anticipation rise up in her throat and renders her mute.

"Midori Suzuki," he says, so sincerely, so lovingly, that she feels herself tearing up. "I can't promise you perfection, even though you deserve it. I can promise you that I will always love you, no matter what. And I hope that you will do the same for me."

"Tsumugu…" she says, hushed.

"Let me get this out before I freak out, okay?" he pleads. She nods silently, eyes wide. He runs a hand over his face as if to reassure himself before he continues. "Okay. Okay. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, come what may. I can't envision a future without you in it anymore, because you are my new dream. So… so, um. Will you... marry me?"

She is still too stunned to think, let alone speak. After a prolonged silence, Tsumugu starts to look anxious.

"…Please?" he adds, squeaking a little.

She laughs, tears starting to stream down her face because she is so, _so_ happy and he is so absolutely perfect sometimes that it takes her breath away.

"Yes," she manages, throwing her arms around him. She finds the now-familiar warmth and safety and strength there in his arms and she buries her head into the crook of his neck. "Yes, of course I will, silly."


End file.
